


I Google You (Or, How Gerard Made His Peace With Fanfiction)

by ketamine_queen



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Crack, Frerard, M/M, Notfic, Timeline What Timeline, what even is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 10:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15579432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ketamine_queen/pseuds/ketamine_queen
Summary: Gerard discovers fanfiction





	I Google You (Or, How Gerard Made His Peace With Fanfiction)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song “I Google You” by Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman

Gerard was troubled.

He’d recently made the classic mistake of googling his own name, and subsequently discovered that his fans had a secret. A deep, dark, dirty secret called… fanfiction (dun dun dunnnn!).

After spending hours glued to his computer, reading increasingly depraved accounts of himself and his friends involved in decidedly non-platonic activities, and for some reason utterly unable to look away, he came to two conclusions: 1. He needed to up his bedroom game, because he was suddenly not at all convinced he was living up to his true potential; and 2. He needed to maybe go find some bleach to pour directly onto his brain.

So, he did what any reasonable person would do in this situation: he bookmarked his favorite fics, shut his web browser, scheduled an emergency appointment with a nearby therapist that came highly recommended via Yelp, and went upstairs to fuck his wife. Hey, reading that much smut will have certain… _effects_ on a person, regardless of any of his other feelings about the matter.

But seriously, what on earth would possess so many otherwise perfectly reasonable fans to spend so much time writing so, _so_ much smut? About _him?_ Didn’t they have better things to do with their time? And why did everyone seem so insistent upon making him hook up with his best friend?

That weekend, he thought about it a lot. About his privacy, about his sexuality, about his band, about his life choices in general; like maybe, possibly, in hindsight, full out masturbating on stage hadn’t been… a particularly effective way to discourage the audience from fantasizing about his sex life? Or the whole making-out-with-Frankie thing…. Yeah, no, ok, he could maybe see where the fans were coming from.

He also thought a lot about Frankie, and spent a truly inordinate amount of time wondering if he could really pull off that one move from that one fic, and wait. Was he seriously fantasizing about his Frankie? Er- plain-old, regular Frankie, who was definitely not _his_ in the slightest? Crap, did he really want to sleep with Frankie? Oh god.

He talked about it with Mikey, who hung up on him after the first mention of the word “Frerard.” He talked about it with Lindsay, who thought the whole thing was hilarious and was currently holed up in the den, writing her own fic about them because “don’t be ridiculous, baby, of _course_ I’ve thought about it- everyone knows you guys would be fucking hot together.” He even made some good progress by monologuing to his cat, who turned out to be a surprisingly good listener. But he still felt like what he really needed was some professional advice.

On Monday, he relayed the whole story to the therapist, about the smut and his confusing feelings and his now perpetually horny wife, and did he really want to sleep with his guitarist, or was it the power of smutty suggestion from basically everyone else on the _planet_ , and sat waiting for her to impart some sort of magical therapist wisdom.

She considered him over her steepled fingers for a moment, then sat back in her armchair and told him, “I’m so sorry, Gerard, but I’m afraid that I won’t be able to help advise you on this matter. It’s just that I, uh… I totally ship you and Frankie. Hard.”

Gerard just sighed.

There was only one thing left to do.

On the way home, he called Frank. “Hey, Frankie,” he greeted him, “Listen, I think we’re going to have to sleep together.”

Back in Jersey, Frankie actually squealed in excitement when he hung up the phone, and went to spread the good news on his Frerard tumblr.


End file.
